Disillusion
by Chauni
Summary: A scene played out that one cannot forget, this is Shinji's first time through that recognizable dance.


Author: Chauni

  


Email: DuosSolo@aol.com

  


Website: www.geocities.com/asukalangley2nd/

  


Disclaimer: I regret to inform you that no, I do not own the characters from Eva, which is the greatest work of art ever created.

  


Warnings: Angst, normal Eva mind screwing

  


Notes: I rewatched the Eva movie... 'nuff said.

  
  
  
  
  


_Dissillusion_

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


The apathy was suffocating, agonizing as it tore the breath from his small pulsating lungs and threatened even more personal areas of the human soul. 

  


"Help me."

  


Pleading, how pathetic, yet still the only thing he knew well, knew in the strong sense like a security blanket. Her eyes glittered beneath the fringe of strawberry blonde, so deep it looked almost like a dull fire. Boredom, neutrality, the darkness of a mind that cared for noone, she regarded him with nothing at all, the sapphire waters watching him. Her lips, ones he had kissed once on more of a forceful nature than anything else, berated without air, rambled with a calmness that seemed inhuman, as she took steps forward, bare feet carrying her lithe form across the cool tiles.

  


"Help me."

  


To take such words at face value would have been pointless; nothing could ever be as simple in a world that threatened to implode with its devouring complexity. Help what? Him? Such a thing was impossible, for he was damned, if by nothing else but his own insecurities and need for constant escape, to run until breathless and blind, until death crept in like heated lovers' air. But still, he would beg, would seek the salvation of someone else, of someone who could be like him in fun house mirrors and dark attics.

  


"Help me."

  


It felt so good to say it, like the mantra that would slowly drive the sanity through him before fleeing, leaving him alone once more. Yes, to seek the help of others, to depend on them and have them let him down... or better yet, to let them down first! To hurt them, kill them, before they could do it to him, destroy their full house with a royal flush full of spades. To hurt, before he could kill...

  


"Help me."

  


Or perhaps, it was the notion that he could do no right, could accomplish nothing more than resurrecting a pyramid of sand that would be leveled by his juvenile feet once more. Vicious cycles that refused reprieve, he was encircle and bound in a life where he would hurt, where he would destroy, where he would bring no pleasure to anyone as long as...

  


"Help me."

  


The flat of her hand found his chest, pressing where a heart thudded frantically beneath the ropes of flesh, and she eyed him as he stumbled backwards. One flailing arm struck the glass coffee maker that sat up a boring wooden table top, splashing and skidding over, drenching one sleeve with its lukewarm remains. A soft thump reverberated in the minute kitchen, bouncing off cream walls and sitting in his head along with one violent word he had heard her spat. 

  


"Pathetic."

  


Crumpled within a limp cocoon of thin limbs, he took in several shaky breaths, ones that sounded so much more sane that what he truly felt. Forget the world and it's problems, forget an abandoning rejecting father and long lost mother bound within a steel gate. Forget the lackluster albino girl with a bible of secrets and forget the flaming eyes of someone who loved him. Forget the stigmata, forget the cross, forget the past, and kill the future before it could close it's hands on him.

  


"Help me."

  


Newborn-like legs untangled, and he crawled to his feet, shoulders slumped, arms dangling without muscle at his sides. Head down, the dark hair covering the portals towards any mortal soul, he whispered his mantra one final time, as if to bring the world down with it and open the gates of Eden with one holy choir.

  


"Help me."

  


Silence grew to be his companion, for no other sound met his ears. The crushing defeat, the final passions flared and sizzled out, only to rise like a phoenix once more. Hands grabbed the damnable kitchen table, toppling the rectangle furniture in a lazy fury, while his head remained lowered, quiet voice repeating it's plea of redemption.

  


"Help me."

  


Flat eyes did not waver as they stared down at him, frigid in their nonexistence.

  


"No."

  


And the bars swung forth with heated resolve, a flood of silent determination, of action and ideals. Fine-boned hands darted out, fingers digging into the soft partial German flesh, while the heels of her feet slowly rose off the tiles, suspended in frozen air.

  


And the world went silent on it's panoramic view.

_The End_

  



End file.
